A Knight in Shining Armor
by Acy Yua
Summary: Stumbling up the path was obnoxious, pimply-faced Richard Turner. He was my true love? I turned back to the cave. I hoped the dragon would eat him.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I have to admit that it seems 'light and humourous' is my strong suit. Certainly, I find it easiest to write and others seem to find it the most enjoyable to read. So, written in a similar vein as While I Was Out Walking One Day, I present to you A Knight in Shining Armor. No, these two stories are not connected and yes, I do love knights. Don't forget to leave a comment!

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Prologue

When I was a little girl, my mother would always say, "Oliva, if you don't behave, a dragon will eat you!"

She was lying.

Dragons don't eat young girls. They steal them away and make housemaids out of them.

I would rather have been served with lemon sauce.

But at the time, Chrilton, my kidnapper dragon, hadn't given me much of a choice. It was either get captured or jump off a cliff. Getting eaten due to circumstances is one thing; suicide is another. Needless to say, I let myself get captured.

It truly is not so terrible. Chrilton lets me see my mother once a week from across a death-drop ravine, and he even brings me trinkets from the villages he terrorizes. Life could be worse.

Of course, if I'm lucky, I won't have to stay here for the rest of my life. As soon as my true love comes and rescues me, I'll be free to go. He doesn't even have to _kill_ Chrilton, just distract him long enough to spirit me away. I would do it myself except for the fact that I have a spell on me: I turn into a cockroach as soon as I step out of Chrilton's domain. Other girls turn into romantic animals like swans or deer – I get a practical dragon who knows that even the most besotted former suitor will refuse to spend the rest of his life with a bug.

I suppose you could say that is the one advantage to being a damsel in distress – I don't have to play the 'courting game' since my true love will be the only one who can break the spell and steal me back from Chrilton.

Until then, I'm stuck scrubbing the cave floors. By hand. Who knew dragons were so fastidious?


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

There is nothing romantic about being a dragon's captive. Interesting perhaps, but not romantic. Having been one for two months, I'm sure that I'm wholly unsuited to being a damsel in distress. Another two months and I'm likely to go out of my mind. Unfortunately, lunacy is never an attractive trait in a female unless one is an heiress – which I'm not.

Sigh.

Perhaps I might have been rescued sooner if I was worth more, instead of having to dust three floors of books for the past two months. And I just missed a shelf.

I pull out a faded leather volume and wipe the worn edges with a rag. If I were of a more scholarly bent, I would be living a dream. However, The Unabridged History of Dwarfish Architecture holds little appeal for a girl of my interests. Give me a good romance any day. If it weren't for penny novels, I would never have learned to read.

The shelf takes me a half hour to finish and at the end of it, my nose is red and running from inhaling an unhealthy amount of dust. Well, I certainly don't look like any hero's dream now. Maybe it's a good thing no one is likely to come by.

I climb down the ladder and upon reaching the bottom, give a hearty blow into my handkerchief. Ugh – you would think a magical dragon would find some way to dustproof his possessions but no, magic isn't capable of something as practical as that. I head down the stone stairs to the kitchen feeling resentful of the uselessness of spells and enchantments. They were able to turn girls in insects (which, frankly speaking, would rarely, if ever, be necessary) but they could not accomplish simple chores. Clearly, magicians do not know what is important in life.

A sound stops me at the door to the kitchen. Was that a cock's crow? My eyes widen in surprise. The call comes again – it is. Someone is coming. I feel myself stiffen with a flash of fear. I have not seen another human being since my capture (except for my mother), much less spoken to one. Chrilton's cave is, of course, nestled in the midst of nearly impregnable mountains with only a single, treacherous path leading up to it. Needless to say, the way is not frequented by travelers. Despite having been told when I was first brought here of the various animals which would call out in warning of visitors, I had yet to actually hear one.

My mind seizes at a thought - what if it is my true love? I glance down at my grimy gown and drag my sleeve across my nose. Of course, he would arrive at a moment like this. The heroes never do in the ballads but obviously, I am not living one.

I hurry back up the stairs to the library and scramble to the window. Looking down the steep slope, I see an awkward figure struggling up the path. It's a shame that he's too far away to see clearly but I can tell that he has no armor. Well, there goes that dream. Still, one can't be too choosy in these circumstances. I assume the sword strapped to his belt that I see him nearly tripping over signals a knightly status.

Flying to the door and down the corridor to my bedroom, I tear at the ties of my dress while yanking at the cloth covering my hair. He was still some distance away and really, one should be better dressed for these occasions. I amaze myself with how quickly I pull on a nicer gown and I yank my hair back into a simple queue before swiping my face with my wash cloth. My reflection is hardly a vision of beauty but I suppose it will have to do.

I pause at the threshold of my room. How does one greet one's rescuer? Am I expected to rush into his arms when I don't even know him? And Chrilton isn't here. Will the knight wish to wait for him to return for a challenge? What will we do in the meantime? Tea? These considerations are never mentioned in stories.

I force my feet out the door and jog towards the main hall. At the very least, I should be at the entrance to meet him. That much I am sure of. Beyond that, I suppose I will have to write the rest of this story myself.

As I hurry along, I feel excitement start to bubble in me. I am going to meet the man of my dreams. The enchantment must have ensured that. Tall, dark and handsome? Perhaps… I feel a girlish grin break out on my face.

I glance out the window before the servant's entrance to the hall and trip to a halt. I can see my would-be rescuer clearly now. And I almost wish that I can't. Stumbling up the path is obnoxious, pimply-faced Richard Turner. I want to turn back and hide in my bedroom. _He_ is my true love? That can't be possible! I hope Chrilton eats him.

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**Author's Note: **What have I gotten myself into? Despite saying that this story would be written in a similar vein as While I Was Out Walking One Day, while writing this chapter, I discovered how very, _very_ different these two stories are. Not only is this story different in format, even the tense is completely different. Actually, it was the tense that was giving me the most trouble. I discovered belatedly that the tense of my prologue forced the rest of my story into present tense. It's very odd writing like this. However, we'll see how this goes - think of it as an exercise in style. So, thoughts? comments? questions? complaints? One thing I can say for certain is that the chapters for this story will have to be, on average, longer than those of While I Was Out Walking One Day which means that they will take longer to write. Since I'm generally pretty busy these days, let's set the deadline for the next chapter to be December 19th. See you then!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I grimace. Maybe not eat. I don't think I can stomach that.

Still, what am I suppose to do now? I'm not all that eager to be rescued at the moment. Certainly beggars can't be choosers, but surely damsels in distress have some choice. Should I be dissuading him? I am now realizing that there are a lot of questions in life that I had never before considered.

But perhaps he isn't my true love. I look back out the window to Richard who is currently braced against a boulder, and I think is trying to shake a rock out of his boot. Just because he is here doesn't mean that he'll be able to rescue me. A sliver of worry weaves its way into my heart. What if he _does _get eaten? I will have his death on my conscience for the rest of my life.

Would the right thing to do now be to warn him away? Maybe the right thing to do would be to sacrifice myself – spend the rest of my life as a bug – instead of having innocent (obnoxiousness aside) men risk their lives for me. That has never occurred to me before.

My head hurts. Why do weighty questions always seem to descend all at once?

Richard has his boot back on. He should be at the entrance to the cave in another few minutes. I should, in all fairness, be there to greet him although this is likely to be a rather awkward meeting.

I smooth a hand over my skirts and quickly check my hair. Best get this over with.

I walk to the cave entrance in a far more demure manner and stand there waiting for Richard's form to appear around the bend. My heart is beginning to race. I hear Richard panting before I see him stumble around the corner.

My, he has certainly grown! The last time I saw him, he was shorter than I was by a good three fingers and covered in spots. He is at least a head taller than me now and the spots have cleared up somewhat. I suppose I can no longer accuse him of being pimply-faced although there is still a spot here and there. Whether the obnoxious part of his epitaph can be scratched out as well remains to be seen.

He looks up from the road and seems surprised to see me standing there. Inwardly, I cringe, a reflex from the past. He's going to say something insulting, I just know it. That had always been his standard greeting for me.

He quickly straightens and puts a hand on his sword.

"I've come to rescue you, fair maiden," he announces, his right arm outstretch towards me in a dramatic fashion.

I blink at him in surprise. Is this _Richard_? I am so stunned I have nothing to say in return.

Apparently, my silence makes him nervous. He drops his arm and shuffles his feet, looking uncertain. He abandons the rest of the speech I sense he wanted to make. "Ah…miss?"

That snaps me out of my trance. He doesn't recognize me! Should I feel slighted? After all, we have lived in the same village _all our lives_. It was only after he left four years ago to become a squire that I stopped seeing him every day.

"Thank you for coming, Richard," I say coolly, "but I don't think you'll be able to break the spell."

His brows furrow in confusion. "How do you know…?" His eyes widen. "Olivia?" Disbelief is written all over his face – enough to be blatantly insulting.

On second thought though, perhaps I should be flattered. He had called me 'fair maiden' after all so it appears I've grown so much prettier over the years that I'm unrecognizable. That is very gratifying to know if not exactly comforting for my old self.

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. "Yes, Olivia." All my previous nervousness is gone. I have the upper hand.

I turn towards the cave nonchalantly. "Would you like to come in for tea?" Somehow, that has just become the perfect thing to say.

"When on earth did _you_ become a damsel in distress?" he asks. He sounded like he nearly choked on those last few words.

"Two months ago," I reply, heading towards the kitchen. He follows me in an air of confusion. "And when did you become a knight?"

There is silence. I glance back at him and see him looking everywhere but me. His cheeks are faintly flushed.

"You're not, are you?"

"No, I'm not," he admits reluctantly. He finally turns his eyes back on me but they are annoyed. "You don't need to look so happy about that."

I don't bother replying. I _am _happy but not because I'm malicious as Richard suspects me of being. No, I am happy because this is more proof that Richard cannot be my true love. How can a mere squire defeat a dragon when well-trained knights have failed? Of course, I don't know how well Chrilton can fight but I assume that anything with scales, claws and fiery breath will be fairly formidable.

We reach the kitchen. I motion him towards a chair while I pick up the kettle. It is actually quite amazing how mundane all of this has become all of a sudden.

"So why are you here?" I ask, filling the kettle with water. "Are you not supposed to be following…" I dig through my memory for a name. "…Sir Quinn about? Polishing his armor and tending his horse and all that?"

"I was. Then he decided to forsake his sword and become a poet."

My eyebrows rise. "A poet?" Well that would explain the speech Richard was about to make at the entrance.

He grimaces. "Yes. He was 'disillusioned by the lack of romance in knighthood today' – his words, not mine. He took to the pen instead."

I throw a few logs into the fire, waiting for him to express surprise at my ability to boil water or something of that nature. He says nothing.

"So you were returning home?" I prompt.

"Well I haven't been knighted and I cannot find another knight to squire to – what other choice do I have?" His shoulders slump. "When I heard that a maiden had been held hostage by a dragon I thought that if I rescued the daughter of a lord or even just a knight I could gain a knighthood." He looks at me with a ghost of his old distain. "Instead I got you."

"The only daughter of a penniless widow," I supply without shame, feeling back on familiar ground. "If you rescued me, the only thing you would get in return is one of my mother's apple pies."

"The pie is tempting but you're hardly worth the effort." It appears that Richard hasn't changed that much. It is strangely comforting.

I sit in a chair across from him. "You wouldn't be able to anyway. I've a spell on me that…" I hesitate.

He bobs his head questioningly. "That…?"

"You don't meet the requirements to break," I finish. I can just imagine the comments I would get if I said 'true love'.

"And those requirements are…?" he prods.

I had forgotten how persistent he is – part of what makes him so insufferable.

"Ones that you do not meet," I insist. I strive to change the topic. "If you don't intend to fight Chrilton then you had best leave before he returns. I doubt you want to risk your life in an encounter you can't win."

"I assume Chrilton is your dragon and you're right – I don't feel like throwing my life away for your sake. You don't appear to be mistreated so I suppose that you should last until a hero who …meets your requirements…comes along."

"A knight," I say, just to rub salt in the wound. "I –"

A distant roar cuts off my words. Richard jumps to his feet, his sword clanking against the chair. "Is that -?"

"Chrilton. Yes. He's back." My heart sinks.

Richard moves towards the door but I put out an arm to stop him. "It's too late. There's no way you can leave without him seeing you."

His expression is one of dismay. "I will have to fight for you?"

"I don't like this any better than you do," I snap.

It seems like there is going to be an attempted rescue whether I like it or not.

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**Author's Note:** Fairly substantial and right on time. So far, this hasn't been a very recognizable fairy tale but it will be - soon. You can start guessing after the next chapter. Speaking of which... the deadline for that will be January 2nd. A nice way to start off the year, no? Don't forget to leave a comment!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I scramble up the stone steps, running to the cave entrance. There is a roar.

"I'm coming!" I call. My voice echoes weakly against the hard walls, muffled by the tapestry hanging there.

I skid to a halt when I am in view. I dip in a low curtsy. My heart pounds from more than just the exertion. I may have become accustomed to living with a dragon but that does not mean I am comfortable in its presence.

Chrilton's scales are a dull silver-grey in the afternoon light. He stands on all four powerful legs, sharp claws sheathed, his muscled tail swishing slowly behind him like a spined snake. His long neck cranes about, moving the fierce looking head. He is sniffing the air.

"We've a visitor – where is he?" Chrilton's voice is a low rumble, like rocks tumbling over one another down a mountain side.

Oh, what to do? Should I lie?

_And risk being swallowed in one bite?_ a voice from within asks. _Is Richard really worth it?_

The answer is 'no'… but that is also the answer to 'would I be able to live with myself if I let Richard die?'

I decide to plead. "I'm pleased to see you b-back, Dragon Chrilton. As for our visitor - he doesn't wish to fight for me. He stumbled here by mistake. Could you just let him go?" It sounds strange even to my ears.

His head snaps back in surprise. "We cannot let a knight go unchallenged regardless of his intentions."

My shoulders slump in relief. "Oh but he isn't a knight," I reply.

He lowers his head to my eye level and I stiffen. "Princes are no exception."

That thought is so ridiculous in relation to Richard that a chuckle escapes me. "He is most definitely not a prince. He's not even a nobleman's son."

Chrilton tilts his head as if considering the situation. "Is he a third or seventh son or an only child then?"

"No, he is the second son in a family of five. His parents own a shop."

Chrilton growls menacingly. Only my six months of experience prevent me from scurrying under a table. He is only thinking.

"Bring me some supper and send me the lad."

I let out a sigh of relief. If Chrilton wanted supper _and _Richard that meant that Richard _wasn't _supper. It seems that Richard's unusual background has made him a distracting conundrum.

I dance away to do Chrilton's bidding. I meet Richard on the stairway.

"I have to see him?" he whispers.

I motion him to follow me back to the kitchens. I shut the door behind me before answering.

"I'm sure you heard him," I reply. I pull out a large salted ham from the cupboard.

Richard moves to stand beside me. "I thought dragons ate raw meat."

"Chrilton likes ham." He had brought this back from his last village rampage. "He only eats fresh kill when he's away from the cave. Here, I have to cook."

A look of relief passes through Richard's eyes.

"How big is that creature?" He asks, his eyes wary.

I cock my head, considering. "I would say a little smaller than a barn."

I move to the hearth to remove my forgotten kettle. The water had boiled. I replace the kettle with a cauldron and order Richard to fill it while I slice the ham.

"Do you know how to defeat him?" Richard asks after a silence.

"Do you think I would still be here if I did?"

"I wanted to be certain," he replies, defensive. "It would be foolish to die if you did know and I neglected to ask."

I hide my surprise. That was unexpectedly practical for Richard.

The kitchen is quiet as we work, the only words being my calls for him to fetch and carry. Despite my misgivings of what is to come, my heart slowly calms.

As I sneak a sidelong glance at Richard who is laying out plates, I marvel at the change. Four years ago, I would never have imagined us preparing a meal together in such accord. And after only a bare hour's reacquaintance! It appears that his years as a squire has made him more obedient to orders.

"Ready?" I ask, balancing a platter precariously on my hip.

He nods and adjusts his grip on his own platter.

I lead the way up to Chrilton's dining hall.

I don't think that I will ever cease to find this sight baffling. Chrilton sits curled up at the end of a long table, a book opened in front of him. As he reads, he delicately turns the pages with the tips of his claws. He looks so innocuous and yet the gleam of his armored skin warns the viewer not to be fooled.

I clear my throat.

Chrilton locks his piercing eyes on my face and I struggle not to gulp.

"Dinner is ready."

The platters before him, Chrilton turns his attention towards his dinner.

I stand to one side, Richard stationed like a soldier beside me, watching my captor eat. Of all my duties, this is the one that I hate the most. Perhaps it is strange but every time I watch Chrilton devour his food with such alarming gusto, I cannot help the fleeting thoughts that one day, that could be me. Not to mention that Chrilton has appalling table manners.

A flaming burp is my signal that he is finished. As I move to clear away the dishes, he turns to me and growls.

"Leave them for the moment. Sit."

I sit.

Richard drops down on the wooden bench next to me.

Chrilton looks to his book, seeming to ignore us. Silence reigns in the hall.

"You come at an interesting time," Chrilton growls, finally. He turns to Richard. "It is a pity that you are not what I had hoped for."

Although I am confused, fear keeps the bewilderment off my face. I glance at Richard. I cannot read his face. Chrilton does not elaborate.

After another silence, Richard dares to ask for clarification.

"I intend to capture a princess," Chrilton declares. He turns to me, "You were to be a temporary arrangement – a whim as I had needed someone to clean my dwelling. However, it appears that getting rid of you will not be as easy as I thought."

A vague feeling of insult twits.

"Unfortunately, I cannot have two prisoners – it is against The Code," he continues. He swung his gaze back to Richard. "You do not wish to fight for her?"

The speed at which he answers in the affirmative is blatantly insulting.

"A pity. I could fight you anyway but I do not want to kill the only challenger to come in all these months. I have no idea when another might come along." Chrilton stood and stretched. I am suspicious that he is drawing out the moment merely for the sake of suspense.

He addresses me again, "I'm sure that you want to leave. I have thought of a way that doesn't violate The Code."

"I am being relieved of my position?" I am incredulous… and actually humiliated. Who has ever heard of a prisoner being dismissed? However, my embarrassment is not nearly strong enough for me to protest.

"I cannot remove the spell nor can I just let this lad leave. However, fighting me is not the only way for him to take you. He could quest instead."

I only have a marginally little more respect for Richard's brain than his brawn but it is a _very _little. Still, with a quest, my chances of being rescued have been raised from zero to a million to one, which, mathematically speaking can be seen as much better.

"What must I do?" asks Richard. The look on his face is one I recognize. It is the brave, almost uncaring expression that he used to try and affect every time he was about to get whipped by our teacher in school for some prank. And I can still see through it.

"In a kingdom west from here, there is a golden bird. A single feather is worth more than a dukedom." A gleam of avarice shines in Chrilton's piercing gaze. "Bring him to me and I will give you the girl."

"By himself?" I blurt, "What if he doesn't come back?"

Richard shoots an annoyed glance in my direction but I cannot care less. _He_ isn't the one who risks spending the rest of his life with six legs.

Chrilton carelessly cocks his head – a dragon's shrug. "It is his choice. But you shall be accompanying him so make it your duty that he completes the task."

I cringe with indecision. On one hand, going along with Richard means that I can ensure he follows through with the quest. On the other hand, I was not at all keen on experiencing life as a cockroach.

"Will my leaving allow you to bring a princess here as prisoner?" I ask.

At his nod, I feel a thread of confidence. It is bold and probably a little foolhardy but I decide to bargain. "Then isn't there some way you could modify the spell on me to make it easier for me to travel." I take a deep breath. "I can hardly accompany Richard as I will be."

I can feel the puzzlement in Richard's gaze but I am not going to elaborate.

"Very well," Chrilton says slowly. If his face was human, I would be incline to interpret his expression as amusement – perhaps at the fact I had the gall to try and haggle with him. "I will modify your spell tonight and shall see you off in the morning."

He flicks his tail and I know we are dismissed.

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**Author's Note:** I know, I know, I'm half a year late. I've been so busy the last six months I haven't written any fiction. Hopefully, you, dear readers haven't given me up for dead. It's summer now and with school out, I will hopefully have a little more time on my hands.

The usual applies: comments, questions and complaints. Also, ten points to the reviewer who figures out how Chrilton will modify the spell. It's actually quite obvious if you know your fairy tales. Waiting to hear from you!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Share my bed with a man who is not my husband? I am not that type of girl which is why I do not feel the slightest guilt in making Richard sleep on the floor. Allowing him to spend the night in my room is enough generosity for me – I could easily have regulated him to the kitchen.

"Why is there not another room?" he grumbles, making a pallet for himself out of blankets and furs which I had unearthened.

"Because this is a dragon's cave, Dick, not an inn," I reply, tossing him a pillow. "Most of the men passing through here do not live to see the sunset much less spend the night. You can sleep in the kitchen, the library or the main hall if you prefer."

He grimaces. "Thank you for sharing," he says, clearly with some reluctance.

"You are welcome," I reply, feeling magnanimous. "Now grab some firewood from the kitchen – I need to change."

He is out like a shot.

I change quickly, not relishing the idea of being caught with my clothes off. I settle into my bed with a comfortable sigh. The only thing I believe I will miss when I leave this cave is the bed. Large enough to fit a family and stuffed with a farm yard of feathers, it is a luxury I doubt I will ever be able to afford in my lifetime. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

"Are you decent?" comes a muffled question through the thick canvas that serves as my door.

"You can come in," I call back.

Richard walks in, arms laden down with a number of fat logs. As he passes the fire to drop his burden in the woodbin, I notice the slight bulging of muscle through the sleeve of his shirt. I turn my eyes away quickly at the brief fluttering I feel in my stomach.

"Good, at least we will be warm tonight," I say to take my mind off my silly imaginings.

I surreptitiously study him under hooded eyes as he kicks off his boots and crawls into his makeshift bed. Silence reigns in the warmly lit room. Suddenly, having him there shoots a pang of homesickness through my heart. It has been so long since I last had someone to talk to and the coziness of the room seems to invite confidences.

"How have you been these past few years?" I venture.

Perhaps his travels have made him a little lonely as well because he answers me with no trace of sarcasm. "Well. It's been exciting…difficult…at times a little boring but these past four years have been wonderful overall."

"What have you done?" I try to picture Richard changing over the years. The images are vague at best.

"Travelled all around the country. There is so much see – more than anyone living in a pokey village like ours can imagine. Sir Quinn toured estates and competed in tourneys-"

"Did he win any?" I interrupt.

"No," he replies hesitantly. "He is an excellent knight though," he is quick to add, voice firm with loyalty.

With a little too much romance in his soul perhaps. "Maybe he simply lacks the ruthlessness to face the more determined of his opponents," I say charitably. "I imagine that he is a very chivalrous knight."

"He is," his voice takes on a reminiscent tone. "He was a fairly patient teacher as well."

"So you can actually use that sword of yours?" I tease. I frown as a thought occurs to me. "Where did you get that sword anyway? It is a knight's weapon isn't it?" I turn my head to the shadowed corner where it stands propped up against the wall. "I swear I saw a jewel or two on it."

"It was gift," he replies stiffly. I suppose he is insulted by my insinuations. "It was Sir Quinn's second sword and he gave it to me as a parting gift. An apology of sorts, he said, for not training me to knighthood." He changes the subject. "What of you? How have the years been to you?"

I think back on my past few years growing up. "The life of a village girl. What more can I say? I can cook now as you know," I slide a glance in his direction and catch a glimpse of a grin in the soft light. "I can sew, keep house, read, write – everything that is expected of me."

"Except being married."

That hits a sore spot. "And I am not the only one," I reply defensively. "I do not see you with a bride in tow. And don't tell me that it is because you're busy becoming a knight – you haven't achieved that either." As soon as the words come out of my mouth I am sorry for them. They were hardly charitable and even Richard does not deserve such meanness.

A glance at Richard shows that my words were not well received. I soften my voice and strive for a little more understanding. "What happened?"

Richard sighs. "I told you – he became a poet. It was a month ago. We were at court. Even I'm not sure exactly what happened but one day he just announced to me that he was giving up the life of a knight."

"Was there a woman involved?" According to my aunt, there always is.

"I don't know. Perhaps…hmmm… there was a red haired noblewoman that he had seemed rather taken with…" He shook his head. "All I know is that he waved me off with a handful of coins and directions for home."

"He didn't try to find you another knight?" I ask. That seems rather irresponsible of him. "Surely that was the least he could do."

"No, the least he could do was send me off with nothing. And I have seen it happen to other boys. My wages are decent enough."

I turn on my side to look to him. "I am surprised you aren't angry." The Richard I knew would have been fuming or have been petulant at least.

He snorts. "Of course I'm angry but what use would that be? Far better that I spend my energy finding a new occupation."

I blink. I finally believe that Richard has changed. My eyes run over his determined face and I realize that I am not looking any longer at the boy who had thrown mud at me after school.

"Does your family know?"

He sighs. "Not yet. I had thought to tell them when I return."

"You would save the price of the courier."

"And it is hardly happy news. Tell me of my family. Have they been well?"

"When I had seen them last, yes. I believe your brother, John, was courting Marie. I wonder how that has turned out?" The stab of homesickness digs deeper as I think about all that I might have been missing. True, it is merely the tide and ebb of a quiet village life but it is the life that I know and to think that it is flowing past me without my knowledge is sad. " Perhaps we can make a stop by the village before we head off."

"The quest," he sighs. "Have you ever heard of this kingdom with a golden bird?"

"You are the one who has been traveling – have you?"

"I never left our country so no, I have not. We are in for a long walk aren't we? Unless Chrilton would be so good as to give us a horse."

"I have my doubts," is my dry reply.

"Well, I hope he will give us a map or at least better directions tomorrow."

"One can hope."

This time he turns and I can sense him looking towards me. "How were you captured any way?"

"I was picking wild berries in the hills when I was unfortunate enough to be spotted by Chrilton. He needed a maid at the time and decided that I would do."

I hear a snort. "Well it was certainly not because you look like a princess."

My lips flatten in annoyance. "A princess would hardly have been able to deal with the mess that was here when I arrived. It's taken me six months but this cave finally resembles somewhere livable." I am actually quite proud of my work even if I would have preferred never having to have done it.

"What spell do you have cast on you?"

I am silent.

"I don't have to be your true love and kiss you do I?" he asks, sounding so unenthused about the idea as to be insulting.

"Not quite," I bite out.

"What is it?" I can almost hear him thinking. "Do you…turn into an animal? A swan like that princess…oh, what was her name…"

I refuse to answer.

"You're not saying anything. I'm on the right path aren't I?" He studies my expression in the firelight and somehow concludes, "I am."

I slant a glance sideways and see the smug look on his face. He is amused at my expense. "I'll bet that you become something not nearly as beautiful. That is why you won't tell me. What is it? A bear? a cow? A pig?" He chuckles. "If you become a horse then our travels will be much faster. Or perhaps not an ordinary animal – a monster?"

A cockroach is not a monster but it is far too close for comfort.

"Go to sleep," I snap. "I don't become a monster," I add, not wanting him to entertain that notion for longer than necessary. "But what I do become would make it very difficult for us to travel."

"A slug?" Far too close.

"Go to sleep." Resolutely, I turn away from him and close my eyes.

I hear Richard rustle into a more comfortable position. Long minutes pass and soon I hear a soft snoring coming from the floor pallet. Wonderful – I should have kicked him out to the kitchen.

But despite my annoyance and the noise, I find myself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Nothing substantial, just some soft, nighttime confidences. It's snowing up here in Canada and so I wanted to write a fireside scene. Action and adventure will have to wait for next time.


End file.
